Just Another Day
by SilasWhitfield
Summary: The 1107th Drop Commandos do the real dirty job, getting shot out of a ship in orbit, riding a tin can down into hell's teeth and kicking ass at every opportunity. For the Dominion! One shot, Violence, language, yadda yadda.


Craton fiddled with the air conditioning settings one more time. There was quiet on the launch deck. Every man was deep in his own thoughts. The sounds of whispered prayers filtered through the air. Then, the silence was shattered and a klaxon blared. The captain cocked his weapon and shouted out to the assembled troops.

"Alright you maggots! Drop time! Keep your dispersion, meter spread at all times, stay fast and low, try not to die!"

With that, they stepped backwards into their respective pods and the floor fell out below them. Craton clenched his teeth so tight that his gums began to bleed as the pod of power-armored men screamed towards the desert planet like a bat out of hell. Orange re-entry flames built up around the port holes and the ambient temperature jumped a few degrees. Through his small vision slit he could see the cruiser, fading into the distance. On the surface, the rebels were no doubt watching the small meteor shower with trepidation, clutching what weapons they could find and huddling inside their settlements, waiting for the mass of metal to make contact. The pods airbrakes deployed with a THHHUNK and Craton nearly knocked himself unconscious on the front of his helmet as deceleration tugged at everything that wasn't tied down.

After a few more seconds of white-knuckle terror, there was a crunch and hiss of hot metal hitting sand and the thin metal doors of the pod blasted open.

Craton took a deep breath and stepped out into the face of hell itself

Marines from the 804th Expeditionary Force were perched on a sand dune in front of him shooting every single bullet they had down at the village. Siege tanks blasted shells over their heads to light the edge of the horizon on fire. As quickly as they could, Craton gathered the eight men that had dropped with him and rendezvoused with the captain near one of the pre-fab forward outpost structures.

"Everybody in your stick make it down okay?"

"Yes sir!"

"Good. Here's the game plan."

The captain picked up a stick delicately between his massive armored thumb and forefinger and began to draw a crude sketch of their objective.

"In about a minute that artillery fire is going to let up and we'll charge down the dune and hit that town with everything we've got. We had a miss drop. Wade's stick landed on the far side of the village and he's taking heavy fire. We're going to forge ahead of the 804th's advance, through the main street here, and get his men out of there."

The tanks fired their last deafening salvo and went silent. The Marines also stopped firing and took up positions next to them. All was quiet save for the distant crackle of Wade's men, desperately trying to fend off hoards of hostile forces. The captain held his fist aloft and ticked off the seconds on his fingers. Three, two, one.

The mass of flesh and steel charged down the slope and opened fire. Massive Impaler spikes slammed into the sides of the adobe buildings, tearing shreds out of clay and human alike. Rebels appeared in every doorway and window, firing ancient guns from every angle. One man plopped a heavy machine gun down on a balcony and opened up with a teeth-shaking chatter. Sand jumped in little arcs all around Craton's boots as he ran flat out towards the village.

The place was in bad shape, the artillery barrage had left deep craters everywhere and it was into these that the combined forces of the 804th and the 1107th Drop Commandos took cover. Craton's second in command, a lean, wiry kid from Tarsonis, reloaded his grenade launcher and tossed the empty shells over the lip of the crater.

The rebels attempted to overrun them twice, but they were beaten back with bursts of automatic fire. Blood began to drip over the edge of the depression. Craton peeked out and saw the enemy pulling back. The captain shouted above the din.

"For the Dominion! For Mother Terra! Charge!"

And they went over the edge. Barrels blazing, spent casings clinking off of armor plates, massive legs stomping over dead bodies with a faint whir. The next few minutes were a blur, Craton only remembered the sound of his own heartbeat and his gun jumping in his hands.

Somehow they fought their way along the main road. He saw four of his own men go down and countless enemy. They took a left and saw Wade's pod, smashed into the side of a building. Wade and two other Drop Commandos were throwing rounds in every direction, a pile of their own casualties stacked up in front of them. One of Craton's men armed a D-8 charge and lobbed it through the window of one of the buildings that was sheltering rebels. A massive explosion ripped the structure apart and bits of brick and mortar clanked of of their helmets. Craton shot a man attempting to crawl away. They dashed forward and linked up with the surviving men. Wade yelled out to him over the sound of his own weapon.

"Damn good to see you Crate, I thought we we're fucking goners for sure!"

Craton nodded and directed his men to set up inside the partially destroyed building. The thin second in command unleashed a hale of grenades from his launcher that sent body parts flying and rebels scrambling for better cover.

The skirmish lasted for another twenty minutes before the sounds of gunfire go less and less frequent, and the figures stepping out of cover and letting of a burst in their direction, rarer and rarer.

Around midday, it stopped altogether. The exhausted men dragged themselves into the town square. Other Marines were busy stacking up bodies. Craton saluted the captain brusquely.

"Looks like we just about killed the whole town sir."

"I would tend to agree with that estimate."

The captain flipped his visor up, revealing a head of grey stubble and scars. He light a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

"Good job."


End file.
